


Technoblade's Allegro

by Hi1dk



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, i made this for english class but i changed the names because it was embarrassing, this is my first time posting a fanfic don't make fun of me, yes i know you can tell, yes i made this pantheon up myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hi1dk/pseuds/Hi1dk
Summary: Technoblade is just another potato farmer, until one day his crops are stolen and he is sent on a journey to defeat an immediate threat to the stability of the entire world.
Kudos: 5





	Technoblade's Allegro

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the pantheon is confusing  
> Update: i got a 44/50 :)

In the beginning, there were Cosmeteus and Hemoteus. They were everything and they created the earth. From Cosmeteus' forehead sprung his four children, Pyletos, Teramos, Meraeos, and Reinmar. Gods of fire, earth, air, and water respectively. From these for gods came the lower gods, responsible for things such as the sea, mountains, the north wind, et cetera. They lived in the sky, they were the stars that could be seen at night. Cosmeteus was the sun, and Hemoteus the moon.  
The sun rose on the lonely and cold crop field, illuminating a strange man with a wide, sturdy frame. He had course, thick brown arm hair, his nose resembled that of a boar, with tusks sticking out of his mouth, his ears were also that of a boar’s. His hair was light brown, it was long and braided down to his waist. He was wearing a thin buttoned shirt, thin brown pants held by suspenders, and a yellow straw hat.  
He worked methodically, digging up potatoes individually from each row and putting them into a burlap sack. The sun continued to rise until eventually it was centered in the sky. By this time it had become excruciatingly hot, he unbuttoned three of the buttons on his shirt and slung the burlap sack over his shoulder, walking back to his small stone cabin. As he reached the cabin he rested the sack on the wall next to the front door. He then turned and picked up the bucket sitting in front of the door, walking over to the nearby well and sending the bucket down and up again to collect water. He took the bucket and finally walked inside his home. He grabbed the single glass from the cupboard and poured water from the bucket into it, drinking it in one huge gulp. He then repeated the same thing over, drinking more slowly this time. When he finished his water he went back to the field, harvesting and replanting the potatoes. By the end of the day, he had finished harvesting about half of the field. After a long day’s work, he retired to his home. Falling asleep hard and fast.  
Late into the hours of the night, there was a peculiar rustling and hushed whispers that could be heard outside of the small cabin. The man rose from his slumber, his sensitive ears hearing this unusual noise. He grabbed the large, double-sided axe that he kept next to his door. He opened it and peered outside. Nothing could be seen. He went back inside, delicately closing the door and replacing the axe, then returning to bed.  
The next morning, the burlap sack he had placed by the door at the end of the day had gone missing. He searched for it. He searched for what felt like hours, eventually returning to where the sack had been the night before. A small piece of parchment lied on the ground, he squatted down and read it. “Meet me at the mountain that claims the lives of many. There you will find me. -Eldritch,” it said. The man looked up at the snow-capped mountain to the east of him. He squinted as the morning rose higher above the peak of the mountain. He spent the entire day preparing. Sharpening his axe, cleaning and polishing the old armor he had in his small closet from his days as a soldier. He spent countless hours packing food and resources for the treacherous journey ahead of him. He swore that he would get revenge.  
That night he slept restlessly, squirming in his sleep in anticipation of what may lie ahead of him. When morning came, he set off immediately. The bitter dawn wind chilled him to his bones, even in his armor. His stride was long, he was soon on the main path towards the mountain. Hours passed by in what seemed like minutes. He was determined to exact his revenge. Before he knew it, the sun had fallen from the sky in what was now night. He continued onward, energized by sheer willpower.  
Eventually, he reached the next town over. People stood and stared in awe at his strange features, nevertheless he continued towards the mountain. When he had finally exited the town, he realized that he was being followed. He stopped and turned around, behind him stood an older, blonde man. He looked to be in his 50s. He was around 5’11’. He wore a dark gray traveler’s cloak, his hair tied back messily. The man smiled widely.  
“Hello, I’m Philza,” he said, holding his hand out to be shaken.  
“Tynorm,” the boar man spoke, but his voice was raspy and quiet from living alone for most of his life. Technoblade did not move to shake Philza’ hand, instead turning around and continuing to walk.  
“Oi, aren’t you going to shake my hand?” Philza’s voice was playful. Technoblade turned around once again.  
“What?” he said, this time his voice was less weak.  
“Hurry on, shake my hand. I don’t bite,” he said with a smile. He didn’t know why, but Tynorm felt strangely safe around Philistus. He raised his right hand from his side and awkwardly grabbed the older man’s hand, shaking it hesitantly. Nobody had ever offered a handshake before, usually, people would just gawk at him as he minded his own business. He tried hard to suppress the smile coming over his face, but it was clear that it was present.  
“Where are you going?” Philza asked.  
“The top of the mountain.”  
“Then why don’t we travel together?”  
“Alright.”

And so, they traveled together. As they made their way along the path, they spoke to one another, eventually, Technoblades voice went from raspy and weak to smooth and strong as he spoke. They had become quite close along their journey, conversation seemingly never-ending. At last, they reached a crossroads. One side continued up the mountain, the other heading into a large town.  
“This is where we split,” Philza sighed. His voice wasn’t cheerful as it usually was, instead, it was soft and somber, “I’m headed into town. My children live there. I thought you’d like to know. I will be there for a few weeks, if you need me you can find me there.”  
“Farewell,” Technoblade’s voice was quiet. Though they had not known each other for long, Philza was the only person who tried to be his friend, and he would miss him. A single tear shed from his right eye. As Philza walked away, they waved at each other. Technoblade stood there a moment to collect himself, then continuing up the mountain. Though the path continued up the mountain, the ground was rocky and unsteady. The mountain itself was quite steep and the climb was strenuous. After three days, he had finally peaked the mountain. On a stump sat a masked figure. The mask was white, with two dots as eyes and a wide, crooked line for a smile. The man himself was thin and tall. He wore a dark green tailcoat suit with white pinstripes. His hair was a light brown.  
“I’m here for Eldritch.” Technoblade’s voice was strong and beckoning. The masked man laughed. He rose, but he did not stand up, instead, he stayed in his sitting position, floating about a meter above Technoblade. He moved to pull the mask off his face. As he did, small horns grew from his forehead.  
“The man you are looking for, Eldritch,” he laughed, “does not exist. Instead, it is me you should be looking for. I am Dream, and you are my enemy. You, you you you. You are the reincarnation of the person who ruined my life. You are a demi-god, Technoblade, Son of Teramos. You see, just as my plan to overthrow Cosmetus and become God of gods came to a head, you showed up and killed my physical form. And then what? You left. You continued to live by yourself until you died 80 years later, as I was using all my energy to create another physical form. I was only able to just recently. All of this, because of YOU.” Technoblade shifted, grabbing the hilt of his axe and pulling it from its sheath on his back. “I will give you exactly a fortnight to prepare to battle me. To the death. If you win, I die. Forever. Meet me here.” Dream disappeared, his mask slowly disintegrated from the ground on which it had been thrown.  
Technoblade replaced his axe into its sheath and walked back down the mountain, it took much less time going down, ending up at the crossroads just before dusk. He walked along the second path and into the town. He decided to spend the night at the local inn, he had not slept well since he departed. When he paid for the room, he was stared at, as usual. The clerk behind the desk seemed afraid of him and was timid as she talked. Still, he slept well in the bed, though it was a bit small for his large stature. The next morning, Philza was waiting outside the inn. Word had gotten around that a strange boar man was staying at the inn.  
“Is there something wrong?” Philza asked.  
“I need to talk to you. In private,” Technoblade whispered, his voice sounded rushed and urgent.  
“Follow me.”  
Philza walked quickly, his cape flowing behind him. He led Technoblade to a hidden valley not far from town.  
“I’ve waited for this day. For 40 years I’ve waited,” Philza smiled.  
“...what,” Technoblade was confused. How could he know? Was his only friend going to betray him?  
“Technoblade, my friend. Do you know who I am,” Philza seemed excited. Now that he thought about it, Philza did seem familiar. “I am the oracle of your father, Technoblade. The oracle of Teramos!” As he said it, memories came flooding back to Technoblade. Of his past life. The people he knew. The things he did. Philza. He ran to Philza and hugged him, almost knocking over the man. Behind him were weapons and wooden training dummies. In the middle of the field, there was an armor stand of glowing purple armor. Technoblade recognized it. It was his armor, from his past life. Forged by himself and enchanted by the gods. Next to it was a similarly colored sword, also his. On top of the armor, there was a red cape. Given to him by Philza, it was blessed, and could not be destroyed.  
“Go ahead, put it on,” Philza moved out of the way and gestured towards the armor stand. Technoblade put it on immediately. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. They trained day in and day out for the next two weeks. Technoblade remembered almost everything but was severely out of practice. At the end of the last day, Technoblade said his farewells to Philza and set off into the night. With his training was newfound strength. He reached the peak of the mountain by dawn.  
As the sun rose, Dream materialized in front of Technoblade. The stump that was once there now was gone. Dream was wearing the same pinstripe suit, this time he had a thin broadsword that was glowing green. Technoblade pulled out his sword.  
“Let the show begin,” Dream smirked. The battle was long and bloody, going from dawn to dusk. Both Technoblade and Dream heaved, sweat dripping down their brow. Technoblade had cuts on his arms where the armor didn’t cover, and he had a large cut reaching down from the side of his nose to his jaw, his cape completely unscathed. Dream was in significantly worse condition. His suit was cut all over his arms and legs. He had a cut from the bottom of his nose reaching to his chin, cutting both of his lips vertically. He was hysterical from blood loss.  
“It’s not over yet,” He said arrogantly.  
“You’re insane,” Technoblade muttered. Dream left himself wide open. Technoblade thrusted his sword into the heart of the god, pulling it out so that it would bleed. Dream coughed up blood, he died silently. He sheathed his sword, heading down the mountain for the last time. Philza was waiting at the base of the mountain.  
“Your father wants to speak with you. I’m proud of you, Technoblade,” Philza’s face was soft with a light, closed mouth smile and soft eyes. The clouds parted and a buff man descended. He looked similar in appearance to Technoblade, though his entire head was that of a boar, and he had a long tail with coarse black hair at the end.  
“Son, today you have saved the fate of the entire world,” Teramos spoke in a way not dissimilar to Technoblade, though his tone was much more stately. A golden crown appeared in his hands. An emerald was embedded in the middle of the crown. “This crown will keep you safe until you die naturally of old age. Then you can choose to become a lower god.” Technoblade bowed his head, allowing his father to place the crown atop his head. Teramos then turned around and ascended back into the cloud.  
Technoblade turned to Philza. Philza closed his eyes and hovered his hand above Technoblade’s face, his wounds were healed, though scars remained where the flesh wounds were. They said their goodbyes, though Technoblade had become Philza’s friend, he wished to return to his potato farm. There he spent the rest of his life, dying of old age just as promised. When the time came to choose whether or not to become a god, Technoblade refused to unless Philza could as well, and thus they both ascended to the clouds as gods.


End file.
